


Drabble Collection

by SlimeQueen



Category: Block B, iKON (Kpop), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Biting, Drabble Collection, M/M, Prom, Smut, Stargazing, Thunderstorms, what is this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6163693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/pseuds/SlimeQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>oneshots/drabbles all under 3K</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up (Beside You I'm A Loaded Gun) (DoubleB)

**Author's Note:**

> i have absolutely no idea what this is but i just??? did this? I'm going to post anything under 3k here for the purpose of not making a thousand tiny fics so yeah
> 
> Please do not steal or repost my work on any other website without my permission!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanbin hates waking up in the morning and Jiwon loves indulging him. (College!au with undergrad Hanbin and TA Jiwon)
> 
> WC: 856  
> Rating: PG

It's raining when Hanbin wakes up, and not just any rain either - the kind that crashes against the roof, beating against the glass windows and creating sheets of water over them. The sky outside is layered with clouds, muting everything into shadows and grey.

Hanbin groans internally, burying his face back into the pillow. He has Bio in an hour and Jiwon has to teach his Music Theory class in half that time, but they're still tangled between the sheets. "Jiwon," he murmurs, reaching out for his TA. "Hyung, wake up."

When Hanbin threads his fingers into Jiwon's hair, he slurs something in his sleep and winds his limbs tighter around Hanbin. After a second, he tries to kiss Hanbin but his aim is off, pressing his lips messily to the corner of Hanbin's mouth instead. "It's raining pretty hard out there," he murmurs sleepily, eyes finally fluttering open, "We should hurry before we get caught in the worst of the storm."

Hanbin tries to shift from his position half on top of Jiwon but finds himself trapped by Jiwon’s limbs. His body is searing as usual, radiating heat to the point where Hanbin's a little too warm. "I don't want to go out in the rain." The thought of the cold and wet outside when he's so nice and warm pressed against Jiwon is repulsive. "We should just wait it out."

Jiwon rolls over onto his side, making Hanbin slide off him. "Just like the last time we decided to wait out a storm?" Jiwon asks dryly.

Hanbin thinks back to the month before, when they'd ended up staying in bed all day and skipping all their classes. He grimaces. "Maybe."

Jiwon laughs triumphantly, rolling around to face the other way, starting to sit up. Hanbin grabs onto his waist, pulling him back, clinging to him and pressing his face into the warm skin of Jiwon's back, arms locking tighter around his torso. "Jiwonnie," he complains softly, "Can't you just skip today?" It's in the whiny small voice that Jiwon can’t refuse, and Hanbin knows it.

 Jiwon sighs and says without turning, "How are you supposed to graduate if you keep skipping?" His voice sounds scratchy from disuse, and he knows his hair must be sticking up every which way. "Hanbin, please."

 Hanbin nuzzles into the nape of his neck stubbornly, soft hands pressed flush to Jiwon's abdomen. "I'm sick," he announces sleepily, "You have to stay here and take care of me." He coughs pathetically, looking pointedly up at the older boy. "So, so sick."

Jiwon is less than impressed, but covers the hand Hanbin has on his tummy with one of his own. "Hanbinnie, come on." Hanbin reluctantly lets him remove their hands. "It's Thursday. We can sleep in all day on Saturday if you want, baby."

Hanbin pouts for all he's worth, squeezing Jiwon's fingers. "You're the worst TA."

Jiwon smiles, lighting up all the way to his crinkling eyes. "I love you too," he says. “And if anything, I’m the worst TA for being with you when I should be doing my job.”

“The professor won’t even mind and you know it.” Hanbin blinks up at him unwaveringly, but Jiwon is already pulling away from both him and the warmth of the sheets. Hanbin groans again, long, drawn out, and petulant.

Hanbin looks at him again, and Jiwon meets his eyes. “Please,” Hanbin says again, a little quieter this time. “You’re always doing school stuff lately.”

Jiwon goes liquid, shoulder slumping, collarbones standing sharp against his skin for a second as he inhales deeply. “One class,” he grants, “Then we both get up and go to school.”

Hanbin’s lips curl into a grin, knowing he’s won—Jiwon won’t make him get up once they’re both under the sheets again. Neither of them will be making it to class and they both know it.

Hanbin’s hand shoots out and curls around Jiwon’s wrist, yanking him back under the covers. Jiwon goes willingly enough, but when Hanbin eagerly swings a leg over his hip and tangles them back together, he breathes out a quiet, “ _Evil_ undergrad, that’s what you are.”

Instead of being offended, Hanbin smiles guilelessly and presses a cool hand to Jiwon’s sternum. Jiwon’s so warm, and with the steady sound of rain pounding outside, Hanbin’s already drowsy again. He tips his head up and parts his lips, sighing happily when Jiwon complies and lazily brushes their lips together.

“ _Your_ evil undergrad,” he murmurs against Jiwon’s mouth. His eyes are shut so he can’t see Jiwon’s reaction, but he imagines it’s that dumb cute smile Jiwon can’t help whenever Hanbin says something sappy.

“Okay _my_ evil undergrad, go back to sleep,” Jiwon laughs, warm mouth pressed to Hanbin’s cheek.

Hanbin mutters something under his breath about dumb cute TAs but complies, dipping down to press his face into Jiwon’s neck.

“One class,” Jiwon says, but cuts off with a yawn. His eyelids weigh down heavily and Hanbin’s body against his is so comfortable, lulling him off slowly but surely.

One more skipped day couldn’t hurt, could it?


	2. In Sickness (DoubleB)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanbin hates being sick almost as much as he hates the smug look on Jiwon’s face. (And it is a very, very smug expression.)  
> WC: 734  
> Rating: PG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow!!! more indulgent bobby and whiny hanbin!!!!!! who am i

Jiwon sighs for the thousandth time as Hanbin looks up with wide watery eyes and pathetically coughs without covering his mouth ( _Ew,_ Jiwon thinks but does not say).

“I tol—“

“Yes, you told me that I would get sick walking home in the rain without a jacket, I get it Hyung. You’ve drilled it into my brain.” Jiwon wonders how Hanbin manages to sound so haughty when he can’t even get out of bed. Hanbin’s expression softens and he sniffles, rubbing his chapped lips together. “I’m sorry I didn’t wear a jacket,” he finally mumbles.

Jiwon reaches over and cards a hand through his soft hair, smiling at the way Hanbin leans up into the touch. “It’s okay,” he relents, “It’s just a cold.” Besides, Hanbin looks too cute all bundled up in multiple sweaters, the tip of his nose red, blankets pulled up to his chin. He blinks a couple times, eyelids half shut with the effort it takes to stay awake. He must be drowsy, Jiwon realizes. He’d been up all night coughing and clinging to Jiwon, whining about how his head hurt. No wonder he’s tired now.

“Go to sleep, Hanbinnie.” Jiwon tugs his hair playfully and leans over, pressing a quick kiss to his too-warm forehead. “I’ll be here if you wake up and need me.”

Hanbin frowns. “You don’t have to waste your day on me.” His face screws up suddenly and he sneezes, loud and ugly.

Jiwon can’t help but snort and brush some of his disheveled hair off his face. “Don’t worry about it.” Hanbin looks like he wants to say something else but he dutifully shuts his mouth and settles into his nest of blankets, drawing them tighter around himself.

Less than a second later, Hanbin is wrapping cold fingers around his wrist and pulling at him insistently. “I can’t sleep.” His hooded gaze turns sly and he tips his head to the side. “You know I always sleep better next to you.”

That earns Hanbin a flick on his forehead and a very firm, “No, you’re _sick_ , as in, contagious.” But even then, Jiwon’s resolve is crumbling as Hanbin sends him a distressed look. “Han _bin_ ,” Jiwon whines, “Don’t look at me like that.”

Hanbin’s lips part and he’s nearly pressed right against Jiwon, who perches at the vey edge of the bed. The heat of the fever is radiating off Hanbin and Jiwon can feel it through his thin shirt and shorts, soaking through him in a way that distracts him from the task at hand. “Jiwon,” he moans out, more in anguish than anything else, “I feel _awful_.”

The last of Jiwon’s willpower gives way when Hanbin’s eyes sweep down, his long eyelashes fluttering. “You _are_ awful,” Jiwon tells him as he gently pushes Hanbin back into laying down. It doesn’t take much effort—the virus is making Hanbin rather waifish.

“I know,” Hanbin grins, accomplished. He tugs Jiwon down with him, lets the older boy settle against his side and entangles their legs under the sheets. “But I’m also ill, so it would reflect badly on you if you got mad at me.”

This time Jiwon flicks his nose.

“Spoiled,” he mutters, but Hanbin just grins even wider until Jiwon pokes at one of his dimples. “Why do I always end up in bed with you when I shouldn’t be?” Hanbin has managed to worm his way into being pressed flush against Jiwon, the feverish heat of his body seeping through his clothes. Somewhere between them, Hanbin is holding Jiwon’s warm hand tight between his own freezing fingers.

“Because you’re never in bed with me when you should be,” Hanbin shoots back, even though it’s a lie and they both know it. Jiwon snorts again and pinches Hanbin’s side through the armor of sweaters he’s built himself.

“And how do you think I should make up for that?” Jiwon plays along, watching Hanbin’s pink lips tilt into a tiny smile.

“I’d say kiss me, but I don’t want to infec—“ Before Hanbin can finish his sentence, Jiwon tilts his head up and presses their lips together, long and careful. Hanbin makes a tiny content noise in his sore throat and pushes up, kissing him deeper.

“Better?” Jiwon asks once he’s pulled away after one last lingering kiss against Hanbin’s bottom lip.

Hanbin thinks for a second. “I mean, I’m still sick.”


	3. Rush (DoubleB)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The practice room in the middle of the night is a bad place to have sex for a plethora of reasons. Hanbin could care less.  
> WC: 2,135  
> Rating: M/NC-17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao finally i added smut to this. It's not au unlike the first two

Hanbin’s hand is writing the same word over and over without him even realizing it.

Late nights in the practice room are always killer, the steady ticking of the clock driving Hanbin mad one click at a time. He’s spent countless nights holed up in here with Jiwon, back when they were working on the first album, nerves buzzing for debut.

Recently though, they’ve been too busy promoting for them to have time to write, and Hanbin is glad for even one night where they don’t have to worry about another interview the next day. Jiwon is sitting across from him, stupid fake glasses falling down his nose as he stares at his paper with glazed over eyes.

Hanbin eyes his paper again, reading over the lyrics that barely make sense, then deftly tears the page out and balls it up. He aims and tosses it Jiwon's way, grinning triumphantly when Jiwon startles backwards in his chair.

“We’re not getting any work done.” Jiwon huffs and drags a hand through his hair. “We should just go back to the dorm before we fall asleep here.”

“You can’t pull an all-nighter? Are you an old man now?” Hanbin teases as he stands, stretching out his cramped limbs. He doesn’t miss the way Jiwon’s eyes linger on him when he lifts his arms and his pullover rides up to show a strip of his flat stomach. He flops back down with a sigh.

Jiwon smiles. “I’ve been an old man since we debuted.” He taps his pen against the edge of the desk without any particular rhythm and looks back up at Hanbin. “Did you write anything good?”

Hanbin snorts and tosses his blank notebook onto the desk. “I can’t focus at all. I need like five cups of coffee and a slap to the face if you want anything decent out of me.”

 Jiwon yawns without bothering to hide it behind his hand and reaches over to poke Hanbin’s cheek. “Coffee isn’t good for kids.” He smiles up, lazy and sleepy.

“Then what’s your excuse?” Hanbin rolls his chair out of arm’s reach and spins around idly, watching Jiwon’s face blur and focus over and over. “Come on, I just need something to wake me up.”

He’s still spinning, eyes falling shut as he wonders if he could just take a twenty minute nap without accidentally falling too deeply asleep when his chair stops abruptly, Jiwon suddenly in front of him. “I can wake you up,” he murmurs, his fingers dragging slower than sin down the front of Hanbin’s sweater.

Hanbin sucks in a sharp breath and grinds his teeth into his bottom lip. “Is the door locked?” he asks. As if it matters. No one is here besides them so late.

Jiwon nods though, and it puts Hanbin a little at ease. “Come on, against the mirror,” Jiwon tells him.

Hanbin can’t help raising an eyebrow. “You can’t just blow me while I sit in the chair? I’m tired, remember?” Jiwon rolls his eyes and tugs insistently on his sleeve so Hanbin forces his legs to carry him and walks over to one of the long mirrors.

“So whiny,” Jiwon breathes as he pushes Hanbin back against the smooth glass, “You can’t just do what I ask?” Hanbin opens his mouth to respond, but then Jiwon’s lips are against his, soft and warm and chapped, and Hanbin feels his knees go weak.

One of Jiwon’s hands cup his cheek, the other pinning his hip to the mirror, and while usually Hanbin would feel cornered and claustrophobic, he finds it arousing now. Hanbin’s hand slips under the hem of Jiwon’s shirt, feeling lean, hard muscles shift under his palms. God, his mouth practically waters thinking about the way Jiwon’s abs look.

 “Can I?” Jiwon asks then, fingers twisting in the hem of his pullover. Hanbin nods and lets Jiwon pull the fabric up his chest to his mouth. They’ve tried this before only handful of times, but Hanbin eagerly lets his jaw drop and clamps down against the bunched up fabric, creating a makeshift gag.

Hanbin is wearing old sweatpants, so it’s easy for Jiwon to drag them down to his knees and press a hand against Hanbin’s cock through his boxers. “You sure you want to do this in here?” Jiwon asks, grin widening when Hanbin nods.

Jiwon drags his mouth down the line of Hanbin’s neck, tongue smoothing over the curve of his adams apple. Hanbin writhes under him, muscles clenching and unclenching under Jiwon’s hands. Pressing open-mouth kisses down Hanbin’s long neck to his chest, Jiwon leaves a wet trail going from the generous curve of Hanbin’s lips to his navel, tracing Hanbin’s abs with his tongue, pinching one of his nipples and grinning when Hanbin jerks at the feeling. He crouches down then, and drops to his knees, glancing up at Hanbin through his eyelashes. Goosebumps break out over Hanbin’s sides and thighs as the saliva-slick skin gets exposed to the air of the room and Hanbin groans softly, fingers curling against the cool glass of the mirror.

 Jiwon hums in response and glances up to his flushed cheeks and heaving chest. Hanbin’s face contorts, eyebrows drawing up as Jiwon sneaks a hand down and gently trails his fingertips down the soft inside of Hanbin’s thigh. The younger’s legs fall open at his touch and Jiwon slips a hand between Hanbin’s spread thighs, craning his neck up to press his lips to Hanbin’s abdomen.

Jiwon drags a hand over the sharp lines of Hanbin’s body, pausing to dig a thumb into his hip, stroking at the bones leading down into his boxers, then finally slipping past the waistband, teasingly pressing his fingers to the base of Hanbin’s hardening cock.

Hanbin’s eyes drop half closed as he takes in Jiwon on his knees. Even in the harsh practice room lights, Jiwon looks too pretty, all reddened lips and sharp angled features, and it drives Hanbin up the wall, how he always manages to look so damn good, even with the bags under his eyes and sleep widening his mouth into a yawn.

Tugging Hanbin’s boxers down, Jiwon’s fingers curl around his dick, stroking aimlessly—there’s no point in jerking him off without lube anyways, but something about Jiwon’s warm calloused hands always has Hanbin worked up too quickly.

Hanbin’s just getting used to the feeling, his breathing evening out when Jiwon’s lips are pressing over the head of his cock. He jerks, gasping into the cotton stuffed in his mouth as Jiwon swallows him down easily.

Jiwon holds his hips against the mirror to keep them still, and Hanbin’s own hands are dutifully twisted together, but his fingers are itching to curl into Jiwon’s hair.

Jiwon’s tongue presses flat to the underside of Hanbin’s cock and he looks up, his eyes dark under his bangs. He carefully removes his hands from the younger’s hips and blinks once, slow and deliberate.

 _Permission_. Hanbin’s eyes nearly roll back into his head as his hips jerk. God, he wants to fuck Jiwon’s face so bad. His legs feel like overcooked noodles, about to bow any second now, but Jiwon wraps an arm around his thigh and anchors him down.

So Hanbin fucks his face.

Hanbin doesn’t mean to, but he’s severely lacking sleep and he’s so fucking tired and Jiwon’s mouth is just so _hot_ around him, his cheeks sucked in tight around Hanbin’s dick, and he takes it so well, swallowing Hanbin down his throat like it’s nothing. Only the way his throat convulses around Hanbin’s cock gives away that he’s actually struggling at all, but even then, his mouth inches down even further, lets Hanbin fuck his face with abandon, his hands knotted through the elder’s hair.

Jiwon doesn’t usually swallow—it’s a fucking pity, because he’s so good at it, but he doesn’t pull back even when Hanbin’s groaning and pulling at his hair in warning, then blowing his load right down Jiwon’s throat. Hanbin’s knees are weak, white spots appearing behind his eyelids, his stomach turning over, and Jiwon fucking _swallows_ like it’s nothing.

Hanbin is panting by the time Jiwon pulls off, shivering when his oversensitive cock is exposed to the air, and Jiwon is leaning in again, carefully licking him clean and then smiling up at him, eyes crinkled with satisfaction.

He goes sliding down the mirror, legs turning to jelly in the aftermath, and Jiwon cups his cheek and pulls him close for another kiss. _Gross_ , Hanbin thinks as the taste of his own come invades his mouth, but it’s also frustratingly arousing like everything else Jiwon does.

But then Jiwon’s own cock presses insistently to the inside of his thigh and Hanbin drops a hand down, all but shoving his shorts down his legs and wrapping a hand around him. Jiwon may like to take his time, all careful fingers and slow tongue, but Hanbin is the opposite, jerking him off fast and efficient. There’s no lube and Jiwon mewls his discomfort into the junction of Hanbin’s neck and shoulder before he pulls off and roughly licks over his palm and goes back at it.

“ _Shit_ ,” Jiwon breathes against Hanbin’s mouth, hips jerking involuntarily. He curls a hand over Hanbin’s jaw and tilts his head back, mouthing down to his jugular. He bites down against Hanbin’s pulse, maybe a little too hard if the way the younger cries out is any indication. He drags his tongue over the red mark in apology, presses a quick kiss to the skin.

Hanbin’s hand doesn’t stop for a second, fisted tightly around Jiwon’s thick cock, jerking him off with long quick drags that have Jiwon’s knees weak and his lower lip clamped tightly between his teeth. “Next time I’m bringing lube so I can sit on your dick right on that stupid fucking rolling chair,” Hanbin purrs into his ear, and Jiwon’s cock twitches against his palm.

“I’d fuck you over the desk,” Jiwon says, his voice strained. He’s rutting shamelessly into Hanbin’s hand, eyelids heavy and pupils blown. His forehead drops against Hanbin’s shoulder, nearly feverishly hot.

“I’d let you.” Hanbin murmurs, and that’s all it takes to push Jiwon over the edge. He shudders against Hanbin’s body, groaning low in his throat as his cock jerks in Hanbin’s hand and comes, spilling all over Hanbin’s hand.

Hanbin laughs a little breathlessly as Jiwon nuzzles into his neck, pushing him flat on the wood floor. “Would it be bad if I said I wanted to kiss you all night instead of working on that song?” Jiwon breathes, their lips suddenly a hairsbreadth apart.

Hanbin lets his head fall back onto the floor and lets himself feel Jiwon’s weight, warm and heavy and solid on top of him. “I’d let you.” He repeats softly.

He wants to stay like that forever, just the two of them and the quiet ticking of the clock, but then he remembers the notebook thrown haphazardly on the desk and the half done composition on the computer and groans. “Come on Hyung,” he sighs, “We need to finish before Yang has our asses.”

Jiwon snorts and mumbles, “He can’t have your ass. It’s mine.”

Hanbin pinches his side and pushes him off, then precautiously stands up. A quick inspection of the floor tells him that there’s no indication of what had just transpired (thank god). His hand is still covered with Jiwon’s spunk though, which is pretty disgusting, so he kicks Jiwon lightly in the side and says, “Get up, stupid. You better be writing some quality lyrics by the time I get back from washing my hands or _I’ll_ have your ass.”

Jiwon looks up from the floor, peering over the arm he has thrown over his face. “I’d let you.” he mimics.

If Hanbin kicks him again, harder than last time, it’s all in good spirit because Jiwon is sitting at the desk when he gets back from the bathroom down the hall, spinning idly in his rolling chair with the end of a pen pressed to his lips in thought.

When Jiwon looks up, his eyes shine, warming Hanbin from the pit of his stomach to the very tips of his fingers.

“You better be writing something good.” He says as he walks across the wood floor to take his place in the other chair.

He happens to glance down at the discarded paper he’d been mindlessly writing on and catches the word he’d repeated on the page. He grins to himself and rips it up into tiny pieces, tossing them into the trash bin next to the computer. Jiwon gives him a curious look but he shakes his head and smiles.

 _Jiwon Jiwon Jiwon Jiwon Jiwon_ , it had read over and over.


	4. Thunderstorms (DoubleB)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanbin and Bobby and dancing in a thunderstorm. 
> 
> WC: 958  
> Rating: PG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing fan art of this chapter by [ohitsdoubleb](http://ohitsdoubleb.tumblr.com/) [here](http://ohitsdoubleb.tumblr.com/post/143110795063/kim-hanbin-thunderstorms-as-inspired-by)

Hanbin finds Jiwon on the roof at midday, his face upturned to the cloud darkened sky, hair slicked back and wet, raindrops streaming down his cheeks like tears.

Hanbin breathes out a sigh of relief—he’s been looking for Jiwon for the past half hour to warn him about the fast approaching storm, the other members giving him wide eyed looks when he’d said “ _I can’t find Bobby-hyung, I don’t know where he went,”_ his eyes panicked and fingers twitching nervously where they’d been gripped into his sweatshirt.

Jiwon turns when the roof door slams shut behind Hanbin, sweeps his tired eyes apprehensively over the younger’s body. Wearily, he shoots a tiny half smile Hanbin’s way.

Hanbin clenches his hands together into fists and says quietly, “Come inside, Hyung.”

The sky rumbles ominously, rain falling in hard pellets that resonate off the top of the roof. The clouds bleach everything faded and grey toned, turning Jiwon’s skin pasty and his lips painfully pink.

Jiwon always acts the most put together, the most cheerful with his wide grin and curved eyes, and it’s almost easy to forget how much Jiwon’s seen, what drives him to work so hard even without his family with him, to reassure him and help him.

Hanbin swallows thickly and turns, something heavy rising in his chest. Jiwon looks like he needs time alone with his thoughts and Hanbin is never one to intrude when one of his members have that particular look on their face.

"Wait, Hanbin." When he looks back, eyes wide and confused, Jiwon reaches out. "Dance with me." Rain beats against the dark concrete under their feet and soaks slowly through Jiwon's thick sweatshirt, his hair already damp under the hood.

There's silence, and then, "You want to _dance_?" Hanbin asks, bewildered. He blinks the water out of his eyes, and Jiwon can’t stop staring at his wet lashes clinging together, long and dark. "Hyung, I have to go inside," Hanbin says, raising his voice over the sound of the rain. Drops cling to his skin, beaded onto his eyelashes, his lips standing out pink against his face.

"Not yet," Jiwon coaxes, "Not before you dance with me." With a bit of cajoling, Hanbin is usually easy to sway, but he stares at Jiwon with more bemusement than anything else.

"We can't just dance," he says exasperatedly, tugging his jacket closer to him. His hair sticks to his forehead, not up anymore thanks to the downpour, and he looks painfully young when the makeup isn't contouring all the sharp edges of his face. “We’re going to get sick and the managers are going to get mad at us.”

"Do you remember the time you, Jinhwan-hyung, and I stayed outside in the rain a couple years ago?" Jiwon asks suddenly, “A couple months after we became trainees? We laid down on the roof with our eyes closed and talked about debuting."

Hanbin's eyes flutter shut, and Jiwon knows he does remember. It seems like a lifetime ago, when they could only trust each other and the thought of debuting and staying together was enough to keep them going for days, then weeks, then months, then years. So much has happened since then, problems and solutions and failures and triumphs. Hanbin's full lips twitch.

Slowly, he reaches out and tangles their fingers together, water cascading down their hands. “I remember,” he breathes, and lets Jiwon pull him close. Their bodies, even huddled close together, don’t do anything to stop the chill of the rain. Jiwon feels Hanbin trembling against him, water running rivulets down his cheeks.

“Dance with me,” Jiwon murmurs again, one of his hands sliding around Hanbin’s waist. “Just for a little bit. Before we have to go back to being B.I and Bobby.”

Hanbin’s eyebrows draw together, lips parting to speak before he closes them again. He knows what Jiwon means—Jiwon can tell from the look in his eyes. Finally, he nods.

There’s no art to it—they sway, slow and steady, Hanbin’s arms folded into Jiwon’s chest, his hands flat on the soaked thin cotton of his shirt, feeling his warm chest under the material, Jiwon’s arms slung around Hanbin’s waist, without rhythm or pattern.

Lightning brightens the sky, a violent streak bolting across dark clouds, lighting up Hanbin’s face, dilates his pupils and shows the profound expression in his eyes. Jiwon blurts out, "You look beautiful," before he can help himself.

Hanbin’s mouth opens in surprise, plush lips dropping into a little imperfect circle, but what he says is drowned out by the deafening crash of thunder that follows. Jiwon laughs, unrestrained, the noise blended into the sound of rain beating into the concrete roof.

“I love you,” he whispers, ducking down to Hanbin’s ear so the younger will hear.

Hanbin blushes deeply, color high on his cheeks in sharp contrast with the washed out color of his skin after exposure to the elements.

“Hyung,” Hanbin begins to whisper, but then Jiwon is kissing him, lips flush against each other’s. Jiwon thinks that Hanbin tastes like lightning, all heat and electric sparks, his mouth soft and open on Jiwon’s.

They stay like that for what feels like a small eternity, occasionally lit up by a stray bolt of lightning, sometimes jerking at the deafening noise and sometimes drinking it in, the rain slowly but surely soaking them through until Jiwon feels more part of the downpour than he does like a person.

Sometimes there are days like this, but it’s fine. He’s get over it and the next day he’ll be back to normal, and Hanbin will keep to himself what had transpired.

It works, and that’s what matters.


	5. Sext Me Up (DoubleB)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe sexting with Bobby wasn't such a good idea after all.  
> Words: 72  
> Rating: PG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know what this is. Honestly i have no idea. I couldn't get it out of my head tho so i put it in here lmao

Hanbin gets the first text in math class when his brain is still half asleep and he can't form coherent sentences.

 

Bobby: bby r u wet 4 me?

 

Puzzled, Hanbin sends back:

 

Me: Hyung?? I'm a boy??

 

Bobby: ?????

 

Me: ????

 

Hanbin is about to ask if Bobby had been drinking when a ruler slams down on his desk with a sharp crack and his phone is promptly confiscated by the teacher. 

 

 


	6. About Last Night (UBomb)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minhyuk gets a little too big for his britches.   
> WC: 635  
> Rating: T

Neither of them know what to say.

Minhyuk stands with his legs crossed, back against the scratchy brick wall so he can feel the rough texture through his thin shirt, and brings the cigarette back up to his mouth. Is there a card for apologizing for sort of accidentally hooking up with your best friend at a party?

Yukwon is crouched down behind the dumpster and Minhyuk has to bend all the way down to hand him the smoke. He takes it without looking and quickly takes a drag like he doesn’t want his lips to keep touching what Minhyuk’s had and gives it back just as fast. Minhyuk kind of feels sick to his stomach.

He’d never expected anything like this to happen. Sure, Yukwon’s pretty hot for a guy, but Minhyuk’s never thought that deeply about it, and if he’s noticed in passing that Yukwon’s eyelashes are crazy long and his lips are almost distractingly plump, he’s brushed it off. He’d never thought it was actual attraction.

Yukwon hooks up with guys. Minhyuk has known him since middle school, when Yukwon suddenly became the object of everyone’s affections and girls and guys alike began asking him out and following him around like they’re on leashes. Sometimes at parties Yukwon disappears with pretty girls and sometimes he disappears with pretty guys and Minhyuk’s never thought about it twice, nevermind thinking that one day he’d end up as one of those guys.

And now, Yukwon’s still squatting down by Minhyuk’s feet in the same ridiculous spot they always hide out at behind the cafeteria during lunch when they want a smoke and the unimaginable has been done.

Minhyuk can still remember the way Yukwon’s lips had felt against his own, and even through his hangover this morning he’d remembered every single detail, from the second Yukwon had dragged him on the dancefloor to the moment he’d collapsed sweaty and breathless against the bathroom door, Yukwon neatly straightening out his clothes above him and washing his hands at the sink.

Minhyuk isn’t typically an awkward guy, but he has no idea whether or not to bring it up. Should he play it cool? He doesn’t think “ _hey remember when I fucked you over the sink at Jiho’s house haha good times”_ would go over that smoothly with the younger boy.

Oh god, what if Yukwon wants to date him? As far as Minhyuk knows, he doesn’t want to be with Yukwon _like that_ , and he’s only seventeen, what if Yukwon’s in love with him or something? What if Yukwon thinks they’re like a thing now that they’ve slept together? Minhyuk’s a pretty good looking guy, he knows, but seriously, he doesn’t want to date _Yukwon_. How can he let the younger down easily?

Yukwon straightens up abruptly and Minhyuk startles, head banging hard against the brick wall. Yukwon winces as if it’s him who hit his head like an idiot and reaches out a little hesitantly to grab the cigarette out of Minhyuk’s hand.

“Hey,” he says lowly, takes a long drag and drops the butt, crushes it under his heavy boots. “Calm down, okay?”

Minhyuk is about to stutter out something like “ _Are you in love with me?_ ” when Yukwon gives him a half smile and awkwardly pats his shoulder.

“Can we like, never talk about last night ever again and just go to class?” Yukwon looks up with hopeful eyes and Minhyuk blinks. What.

Before he can ask anything, Yukwon is already walking away. “Hey!” Minhyuk calls after him. “Wait, aren’t you in love with me?”

Yukwon turns, still walking backwards. “What?” He calls back, face full of mirth as he shakes his head, “What the fuck?”

Minhyuk feels confused and for some reason, slightly let down. “So you’re not in love with me?”

 


	7. Supernovas (Namseok)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoseok gets swindled into stargazing with his weird boyfriend.  
> Rating: T  
> WC: 1056

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just... love writing.. in hoseok's pov... so much

Hoseok’s boyfriend is kinda weird.

Like, not as weird as Taehyung, but then again, most people aren’t as weird as Taehyung. Namjoon is a different kind of weird. Namjoon is the kind of person who writes poetry and has notebooks filled with it—but never shows anyone. Namjoon is the kind of person who reads Kafka one day and Twilight the next and blushes when you call him out on it.

Namjoon is also the kind of person who likes looking at the stars in the middle of the night even though they have classes the next morning and they’re technically not even allowed on the dorm roof, and how the fuck did he get the key anyways, isn’t it off limits to students?

Which is how Hoseok finds himself with a blunt in his hand, him and Namjoon wrapped in a blanket that’s way too fucking small to ensconce him and Namjoon’s long limbs at the same time, and a bottle of whiskey between them.

Namjoon looks like he’s been dipped in moonlight, the high points of his face silvery, his hair messy and bleached silver like the rest of him. The stars reflect in his eyes and the delicate silver ring he has through his nose glints faintly. Hoseok doesn’t realize he’s staring until Namjoon nudges him with a shoulder and grins.

Hoseok clears his throat and takes a long hit off the blunt. His fingers are cold but the smoke warms him up from the inside, filling his lungs familiarly. After he releases the smoke, he hands it off to Namjoon.

“Have you ever thought about how likely it is that other planets have life on them too?” Namjoon says abruptly. He always changes subjects quickly, like his brain functions too fast to stay on one topic longer than a minute.

Hoseok glances up at the sugary spread of stars above them, the moon like a wide bone-white pool. “Like aliens?”

Namjoon shrugs. “In the whole unexplored universe, d’you think we’re the only planet with life? How self-important are humans if they think like that?” Hoseok is constructing a response to that but then Namjoon points up and says, “Look at that. Those five stars over there make up Cassiopeia.”

Hoseok has no idea what five stars Namjoon’s talking about but he nods along with him. The weed makes his head fuzzy and he’s already sleepy because it’s so late, but astronomy is important to Namjoon so Hoseok stays up with him.

 “They’re some of the brightest stars you can see from here.” Namjoon continues, “Except you of course.”

Hoseok pinches his boney side at that, watches him gasp and fall out of the blanket and laughs at him. “You’re gross.” He declares, drawing the whole blanket up around him. The autumn air is crisp and the new semester has just begun, full of prospects. Hoseok loves the chill this time of year, but more than that he loves bundling up in sweaters and drinking spiced drinks, keeping his body warm while his nose becomes numb.

Namjoon pushes his lopsided glasses up his nose and tries to worm his way back into the blanket, but Hoseok tightens his hold on it. “You’re so mean,” He says finally. “I bought you weed and now you’re letting me freeze to death.

For a genius, Namjoon sure can be stupid sometimes. He’s wearing sweatpants and a loose shirt that does nothing to stop the chill, and even in the dim light Hoseok can see the goosebumps on his bare arms.

Hoseok pretends to think. “I’ll let you in if you give me something.”

Namjoon narrows his eyes. “Give you what?”

“A kiss.”

Hoseok doesn’t normally like saying things like that—in fact, he mocks them all the time when Jimin thinks he’s being cute and whines to Taehyung, but Namjoon brings out something soft in him.

Namjoon leans forward, presses their mouths together slow and careful. He tastes like smoke and whiskey, and Hoseok melts into the feeling of his soft slick lips, lets Namjoon coax open the blanket and reach for his hand, lets him intertwine their fingers.

When Namjoon pulls away and cards a hand through his hair to push it back off his temple, Hoseok laughs out loud. “This is so cliché.”

Namjoon glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “What is?”

“Us. Making out under the stars.” Hoseok smiles. “You being a hipster scumbag and me being a dance major and somehow winding up dating. It’s like a romcom.”

Namjoon swivels his head from the sky to look at him and his nose ring catches the light again. “You think?”

Hoseok nods and keeps staring at the stars. Suddenly, something bright streaks across his vision and disappears. “Did you see that?” Hoseok demands, shaking Namjoon’s arm.

“A meteor,” Namjoon dismisses, but Hoseok cries, “A shooting star!”

“We learned about them last semester in Astronomy. It’s what happens when something from space enters Earth’s atmosphere.” Namjoon rests his chin on Hoseok’s shoulder and asks softly, “What else do you see?”

Hoseok squints. “There’s… a circle around the moon.”

“A halo,” Namjoon explains. “The refraction of moonlight. It’s pretty, right?”

Hoseok hums his agreement. “What are you learning now in Astronomy?”

 “Supernovas.” Namjoon answers immediately. “When stars explode.” He winds his fingers through Hoseok’s and asks, “Are you cold? Your cheeks are really red.”

With a start, Hoseok realizes that he is in fact cold. “You stole the blanket while you were distracting me with space talk!” He realizes and without another thought, tackles Namjoon, straddling him and pinning him down on the roof. “I hate you.”

Namjoon laughs louder than he should in the middle of the night when they’re both supposed to be asleep, his eyes crinkling. “I’m sorry.” He says, not sounding remorseful in the least. With some difficulty, Namjoon rolls them both over and winds up on top, elbows braced on either side of Hoseok’s head. “I can make you warm again.” He whispers.

Hoseok lets his eyes flutter closed as Namjoon kisses him again, this time deeper and slower, feels Namjoon heavy and warm on top of him.

Hoseok looks up at the stars in the night sky, and then the cosmos that shine in Namjoon’s eyes, and thinks he feels a supernova explode inside him.


	8. Who Needs Prom Anyways? (Yoonjin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seokjin's date bails on him on prom night and he winds up crying on Yoongi's couch.
> 
> WC: 1311  
> Rating: T

Seokjin’s always been an ugly crier.

When they’d been six and he’d fallen off the swings on the playground at school and scraped up his knees badly (and in the process, had nearly given six year Yoongi a heart attack) Yoongi had noticed this particular trait.

Yoongi had told him once too, when they’d been ten and Seokjin had cried over a movie they’d watched. Seokjin ignored him for the whole following week until Yoongi let his pride melt away and had apologized.

Sure, Seokjin’s vanity is one of his most prevalent traits, but Yoongi’s known him long enough to see the insecurity under it.

“Prom isn’t a big deal,” he tries again, but the words sound like a track repeating in his head. No matter how many times he says it, Seokjin’s not going to believe him because the older boy’s been planning tonight for months, meticulous down to his manicured fingernails. His perfectly fitting suit is crumpled now, and he’s curled up on the end of Yoongi’s worn couch, the corsage on his jacket crushed beyond repair.

“It was a big deal to _me_.” Seokjin says, voice rough from crying. He blinks at Yoongi accusingly, like he’s the reason Seokjin’s date bailed on him, and Yoongi gets another look at his crying face, nose scrunched, cheeks red. He sniffles again and burrows deeper into Yoongi’s couch.

Yoongi doesn’t exactly understand why prom is so important to Seokjin—hey, one can get moderately tipsy and listen to bad music and _not_ have to pay fifty dollars for it—but seeing him so miserable makes Yoongi’s own heartstrings twinge oddly. “Hey,” he says, trying to make his voice as soft as he can, “It’s okay, he was an asshole anyways.”

“I never even got my slow dance,” Seokjin whines, “I just wanted one slow dance at prom.”

Yoongi knows it’s all he wanted. He’s been talking about it since they first started high school, planning the perfect prom night, complete with a perfect dance with a perfect date. Seokjin looks so devastated, and Yoongi knows how disappointed he must be.

 "If you want, you can dance with me." Yoongi blurts it out before he can convince himself not to, but the second the offer's out of his mouth, Seokjin's head whips up.

"I can... dance with you?" Seokjin asks incredulously after a short beat of silence that feels like eternity to Yoongi, "You're offering me my slow dance?" It's a bad fucking idea, Yoongi knows that down to his core, but Seokjin looks so beautiful when he's happy, eyes bright, thick lips pulled into that wide perfect smile, and Yoongi wants that expression instead of the sad scrunched up face Seokjin’s been pulling for the past half hour.

Even thinking about it, Yoongi feels his face heat up unwittingly, and prays that Seokjin can't see his red cheeks in the dim light. "I mean, if you're just going to sit on the couch and cry all night," he says roughly, embarrassed, "There's nothing else I can do, right?"

Seokjin sniffles, his nose scrunching up, watery eyes overflowing with shiny tears. "B-but you don't even _like_ prom!" Seokjin sobs, fresh tears replacing the ones he'd wiped away. Yoongi tries not to let his frustration or embarrassment show as he perches on the couch next to Seokjin, awkwardly scratching his blunt nails over the soft material of his pajamas. They're the ones with little clouds on them, well-worn and warm. They'd be mortifying to wear in front of anyone but Seokjin, who barges onto Yoongi's house at all hours of the day with no regards to Yoongi's privacy. Yoongi kind of likes that though, how Seokjin balances out the introvert in him.

"I don't like prom, but I like you, and you like prom." Yoongi reluctantly murmurs, one hand extended hesitantly towards Seokjin's broad shoulder. The wrinkled tuxedo jacket is in the way, so Yoongi tugs at it. "No suit though," he muses, "just dancing."

Seokjin giggles in the midst of his crying, his ugly familiar squeaky laugh, and Yoongi wonders when it stopped being funny and started sounding so pleasant.

"Okay," he agrees softly, "no suit."

Seokjin sits up straighter on the couch and pulls off the jacket, wipes at his red rimmed eyes, his nose pink, cheeks flushed, and Yoongi knows Seokjin's an ugly crier, but also knows that Seokjin's not an ugly _anything_ anymore, not since freshman year when he shot up a head above Yoongi and his shoulders broadened and he grew into his bold features and learned to dress well—

Yoongi clears his throat louder than necessary. "I-I'll put on music." He fumbles with his phone, typing the pass code wrong three times before he manages to unlock it. The home screen's a selfie of him and Seokjin from their last winter break, the last ever one before college, and Seokjin's bundled in one of those huge sweaters, face pink from the chill outside, but the smile on his face brightens the entire shot, and Yoongi's face is half out of the frame, pulling away from Seokjin's death grip. Yoongi swallows hard.

All the music in his library is unfit for slow dancing, he realizes a beat too late. It's all fast beats and loud angry verses spat into barely working microphones, some of his own songs along with his friends', and a couple of foreign songs that are pretty much the same.

Seokjin smiles, his eyes crinkling with humor, and Yoongi doesn't know how the fuck the older boy makes his irises shine so much, but he does know that it makes it hard for him to breathe. "You can play rap, I don't mind." Seokjin offers enthusiastically.

Yoongi squeezes his lips together. Seokjin deserves ballads, he deserves fairy lights in a hotel ballroom, and a dance with a date in a suit instead of Yoongi in his cloud pajama pants and a Kanye shirt. He finds the slowest song in his entire library and presses play. Seokjin stands up to his full height and holds a hand out, and Yoongi stares at his familiar knobby fingers, and finds them endearing instead of funny. "Can I have this dance?" Seokjin asks, calm and breezy like he hadn't just been breaking down 20 minutes ago, and Yoongi slips his own hand into Seokjin's, lets the taller boy hoist him up as the first notes begin.

Yoongi doesn't know how exactly to do this, so he more or lets Seokjin lead, but it's more like swaying slowly from side to side, Seokjin's fingers tangled together with his, his other hand against Seokjin's wide collarbone. Seokjin has a hand against the small of his back, warmth radiating through his thin shirt. They're never awkward in their silences, too many years between them for it to be uncomfortable. Seokjin has to lean down a bit, but he manages to rest his forehead on Yoongi's shoulder, cheek pressed against his neck. "Yoongi," he murmurs, his breath warm against Yoongi's collar. Yoongi hums, not trusting his voice. The proximity is making his stomach flip and his palms sweat, and oh god, he hopes Seokjin can't feel that because of their intertwined fingers, he hopes that Seokjin doesn't notice and think it's gross.

"Thank you," Seokjin breathes.

Yoongi hums again, and there, in his living room with Seokjin pressed against him as a last resort when he should have been at prom, should have been getting that crown he'd wanted so badly, Yoongi realizes that it doesn't matter that he doesn't have a suit, that Seokjin doesn't care if his hair is done or not, doesn't mind that he's snappy and sometimes locks himself in his room alone for hours on end, because when it comes down to it, Seokjin whispers into his ear, Yoongi's more important to him than prom ever will be.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://eatjinsass.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/whinytaeyong) come hmu


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